Hunger

4:20 Sunday morning
can't sleep, slip out of bed
into too tight trousers,
thick turtleneck secreting sags
run a brush through my hair,
hope springs eternal,
even at this early hour

the Super Wal-Mart is open
but empty, except for the exhausted
night crew restocking shelves, myself
I wonder where does the neverending
supply of rock bottom come from

used to be I'd call her
when she ran errands
tell her how I'd like to take her
in the dressing room
try her on for size
while others wandered aimlessly
searching for fulfillment

now it's me, solo,
trawling at too early an hour
hoping to snag anyone
with a similar disposition

hunger hits, drives me from the aisles
to Waffle House, the lone patron
as the waitresses count money
change shifts, look at me
with knowing eyes, whisper
I open my news of the world
pull out my glass case
to find emptiness, my sight
left at home, I stare blankly

just as well, what's going on
in the world seems unimportant
as does the day that lies ahead
without you

back in the car, I head home
glad to be back in the shadows,
the silence, I hear your voice
call to me from far away
but it is only a memory
ricochetting in my mind,
a bullet in my brain
__________________